I've been awake for too long I can hear colors
The next time Apollo sees Klavier is much later.
Apollo isn't quite sure why he's here, anyways. Everything within him is screaming, begging himself to just leave already. This shouldn't be necessary. Apollo should be at home, laughing, crossing another enemy off the list with a champagne glass in hand- not that Apollo can afford champagne, but uh, the point is clear.
Apollo just doesn't know why he feels so goddamned empty now. He can't shake the feeling of finality, knowing that everything's changed for good. This should be a moment of victory, and yet, Apollo can't shake the feeling that he's lost something- something that he'll never get back.
Apollo supposes that's it. After all, it's has to be his humanity that's keeping him here. He's only here for that weird twinge in his chest that still doesn't believe that Kristoph is dead, the crushing thought that it's all over now. Apollo may have just seen the man's corpse lowered into the ground in a coffin, but that's not enough for his stupid brain. There's a part of him that expects for Kristoph to still be there, a part of him that thinks that Kristoph will be looming over Apollo the second he turns around.
Apollo scowls. Well, Kristoph's not exactly gone. There's always the laugh.
And there it is, right on cue. Those breathless gasps of mirth haven't left Apollo's head since the trial, not once. Apollo would pay anything to get the horrible sound out, would give up anything to have his head clear and quiet again.
Kristoph just doesn't feel dead when he's still there.
That isn't the point, though. Apollo isn't at this funeral for Kristoph's sake. Not totally, anyways.
Apollo's mostly here because he knows who's hosting the funeral, who's bound to show up- who he's about to see for the first time in god damned weeks, mind you.
The past month was the longest in Apollo's life. He can't remember another month that crawled on like that with an endless sense of anticipation, leaving him waiting for something to change. All he can remember from it is the waiting, checking, watching day after day, because he knew that the very thought that Klavier Gavin could disappear was ridiculous. But no, he was gone- like he'd never been there at all.
Well, not exactly like he'd never been there at all. The man might have been gone, but the proof was still all there- his office, the court records, the music. It wasn't the same without him, though. It all turned depressingly vacant and dark in his absence. Take his office, for example: it was always silent and cold each time Apollo visited, complete with a thick layer of dust gathering on the guitars and desk.
Then there was the neverending dial tone Apollo got when he called Klavier's phone, the little chirp of "achtung!" that begun Klavier's prerecorded message. Apollo always had to shut his phone off after that. The sound of Klavier's voice always made something in his chest hurt, something that felt oddly like the sensation in his hand when he first took Klavier's- a faint warm buzzing, something familiar but just out of Apollo's grasp.
Coming to the funeral was all worth it to see Klavier again, though, even if he was too changed for Apollo's liking.
Klavier stood in the front during the service, just before the coffin with a hand over his mouth. He looked almost spectral, bundled in a long black coat that rustled in the wind.
The sight was striking. Apollo had never seen Klavier in anything other than the usual, the almost blindingly bright pink jacket ("it's fuchsia, Herr Forehead!") and gaudy jewelry. Seeing him dressed plainly like this, almost looking drab- it was odd, to say the least, and it only piled on top of Apollo's worries.
Apollo couldn't help but notice the haircut. It was hard not to, with the way it fluttered in the wind. Apollo couldn't say that he hadn't guessed this would happen, but it was still a bit of a shock to see Klavier without his signature drill hairstyle.
Klavier looked downright haunting during the service. His face remained blank through the whole thing, with not a single tear or quiver. He just stood there, unmoving in the biting wind and clash of emotions. The stillness was odd to see on someone like Klavier, a man whose smile usually seemed like enough to power the whole world. He looked small without the glimmer of happiness, lost without that spark in his eyes.
Seeing him like that… it was enough to quell Apollo's anger.
Oh yes, Apollo had arrived fuming with fists balled, trembling under his own short jacket. You left us, just like that, Apollo wanted to say. I worried that you were dead. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, and I want to, more badly than I can say.
Klavier had met Apollo's eyes halfway through the service, though, and it was all gone in a flash. Apollo couldn't say it. He couldn't take anything from Klavier, not anymore. He couldn't hurt Klavier. The thought made him tremble, unsteady with rage.
The service is over now, though. The meager company is gone, and it's completely quiet, except for how the wind is howling. It bats Apollo's ears and hair, but Apollo can't bring himself to care. He's fixated on one thing and one thing only now.
Klavier's form is hunched just in front of Apollo, compact and small, and it hits Apollo that the situation is nearly ironic.
The last time they were alone like this was just after the Misham Trial.
Now that Apollo thinks about it, this certainly does feel the same. He's standing with Klavier, staring at an achingly blank place far after everyone else has left, trying to forget what Kristoph's done. Trying to forget the blinding pain, how badly they're both hurting.
Kristoph's laugh hasn't changed in all this time, nor is it lost in the wind. The feeling of emptiness is still the same, all too familiar.
If the situation is all too familiar, Apollo thinks to himself with a grimace, then Klavier has changed too much. His silhouette is all different now, hair short and coat wrapped tight around his torso. He looks tiny when he's knelt down now, bent over the headstone and crouched down on the freshly moved dirt. There's a silent sob as his shoulders shake, hot tears falling on the hand still cupped over his mouth.
He probably thinks that he's alone- that or he's too gone to care.
Apollo hasn't let Klavier known that he's there. He's just been standing, watching. Apollo can't do much more than swallow nothing in his incredibly dry mouth, shivering under the relentless wind- wind that's only picking up the longer they stand out here.
Apollo inhales. Right. He needs to do something; he can't leave Klavier alone. It's Apollo's responsibility to take care of Klavier, to replace everything that he's taken from the man.
Apollo takes a step forwards, and the grass crunches lightly under his foot. It's not loud enough to hear, especially through the howling wind, and Klavier doesn't react.
Now that Apollo's closer, he can see the scene before him more clearly. Klavier's staring forwards at the headstone, blue eyes locked onto it. He appears to be reading the name etched there over and over, in an endless loop. Kristoph Gavin. Kristoph Gavin. Kristoph Gavin.
Apollo steals a glance at the grave. The name is drawn at the top, so small that you probably couldn't read it from more than a meter away. The font is astonishingly simple, and the message is just that- the name.
Apollo represses a snicker. Kristoph would hate it. He'd hate the gracelessness of it, the sheer simplicity and lack of gravitas. For all of his scoffing, he was more alike his brother than he had ever realized.
Not that Apollo would ever tell either of them. Not now.
Apollo turns, looking back to Klavier. His hand is still blocking most of his face, holding it, but his eyes are closed now. Apollo has to stop his hand from reaching forwards, from wiping the tears off of Klavier's cheeks.
Apollo swallows, glancing down at his hand. Well, he has to do something.
Might as well do what worked last time.
Apollo extends his hand, not saying a word. He leaves it in front of Klavier's face, holding it out like an invitation.
Trust me.
Klavier opens his eyes, shiny with tears and bright as stars. He stares at Apollo's hand, unblinking, his own hand trembling.
Please.
Quick as a flash, Klavier takes Apollo's hand, holding tight. He doesn't look up to the owner, doesn't even think. Klavier's hand just leaves his face to clutch Apollo's hand with all of his might, like he's scared it'll slip away.
Klavier's hand is wet with tears, but still as warm and soft as it was last time. Apollo runs his thumb over it to find the back raw with cold. Probably from the wind.
Come to think of it, Klavier's probably cold all over, standing alone for that long.
Apollo tugs upwards with a small grunt, hoisting Klavier up. Klavier doesn't fight him, but he doesn't look up either. He just allows himself to be lifted, lets Apollo wrap two arms around him and clutch Klavier to his chest. Klavier tucks his head into the crook between Apollo's neck and shoulder, lying it there.
"My brother is dead, Apollo." Klavier says quietly, breath hot on Apollo's neck.
It's the first time Apollo's been able to appreciate Klavier saying his name, and Apollo's heart skips a beat at the sound. His own name sounds almost exotic in that voice, with Klavier's familiar accent gliding over the syllables.
"I know." Is all Apollo can say, all he can think. He knows. Kristoph is dead, even if it doesn't feel like it.
"I'm still alive." Klavier mumbles, closing his eyes. "Now three men are dead, and I'm the one who's alive."
It takes a second for Apollo to place the thought, because it sounds familiar.
Oh. Apollo can nearly hear Klavier's voice again, the way it was broken and hoarse in the aftermath of the Misham Trial.
Why am I alive?
"I'm alive too." Apollo says quietly. He hopes it's comforting, hopes the thought makes Klavier feel less alone.
Klavier laughs, shaking in Apollo's arms. "J-ja. You're alive. No one could kill you, Apollo."
"He could have." Apollo says numbly, and suddenly he's realized that Klavier's odd ramble back after the Misham Trial may not have been that far-fetched, after all- especially when applied to Apollo himself. After all, Apollo would have been easy to kill, so much so that it would have been dull for Kristoph. What cosmic slip-up left him alive after all that?
Don't answer that. Apollo shakes his head, cringing. He can't afford to think like that, especially not now. Klavier needs him, now isn't the time to bog himself down with stupid what ifs.
"Are you okay?" Apollo asks, and he regrets asking the second the words leave his mouth. Stupid question. Of course not.
Klavier lets his breath out in a puff that warms Apollo's neck. "I will be. I have to be, nein?"
Apollo resists the urge to comb his fingers through that hair, that wavy sea of shining blonde. "What are you being until then?"
Klavier laughs aloud at that. "Drunk."
Well, Apollo can't fathom a response to that. What do you even say to that?
"I'm going home, Apollo," Klavier says, and the sentence is whisper-like, soft. Apollo would probably think that Klavier was talking to himself if he didn't outright address Apollo.
Klavier straightens, rubbing his eyes with his hand. It's suddenly cold without him there, clinging onto Apollo like they're the last men on Earth.
Apollo takes the opportunity to stare at Klavier, scanning down from the mussed hair to the black coat that's hanging off of his thin frame. The world feels barer when Apollo isn't touching him, the colors duller and the sounds softer. It's like Klavier is an amplifier, a conductor for everything good in the world. Apollo doesn't want to be anywhere but where Klavier is.
"I'm coming, too." Apollo says suddenly. It isn't like he's got anything better to do. You know what? Getting drunk with Klavier Gavin sounds good, all of a sudden. Very good.
Klavier looks a bit confused- oh. Apollo just invited himself over.
Apollo leans back, rubbing the back of his neck. Shit, this is embarrassing. "I mean- if that's alright with you."
Klavier still looks uncertain, so Apollo drops the arm, looking him in the eyes and dropping his voice. "Look... I just want to make sure that you're ok, Klavier. After everything that's happened... I'm kind of worried."
Klavier shrugs, playing with his bangs. "Ja, ja. The more the merrier, nein?"
ok, quick psa. truitt (my beta and best friend) made two anonymous reviews the other day, so if you see anything weird, it's him. Sorry about that.
(by the way, thank you, mad anon. you're very sweet.)
